“Oh, yes, I shoot very well!” I answered, but this was not true. Our steed was then put in again in a few seconds, and we proceeded on our way. The colt appeared to be quite joyful. He stamped, kicked a little, and began to go at a pretty steady pace. Our disagreeable hosts had told us the way to St. Quentin, and we set off, after our poor colt had made attempts to stand still. I was dead tired and fell asleep, but after about an hour the vehicle stopped abruptly, and the wretched beast began to snort and put his back up, supporting himself on his four stiff, trembling legs. It had been a gloomy day, and a lowering sky seemed to be shedding tears slowly over the earth. We had stopped in the middle of a field, which had been plowed up all over by the heavy wheels of cannon. The rest of the ground had been trampled by horses’ feet, and the cold had hardened the little ridges of earth, leaving icicles here and there which glittered dismally in the thick atmosphere. We got down from the vehicle to try to discover what was making our little animal tremble in this way. I gave a cry of horror for, only about five yards away, some dogs were pulling wildly at a dead body, half of which was still underground. It was a soldier and, fortunately, one of the enemy. I took the whip from our young driver and lashed the horrid animals as hard as I could. They moved away for a second, showing their teeth, and then returned to their voracious and abominable work, growling sullenly at us. Our boy got down and led the snorting pony by the bridle. We went on with some difficulty, trying to find the road in these devastated plains. Darkness came over us and it was icy cold. The moon feebly pushed aside her veils and shone over the landscape with a wan, sad light. I was half dead with fright. It seemed to me that the silence was broken by cries from underground, and every little mound of earth appeared to me to be a head. Soubise was crying, with her face hidden in her hands. After going along for half an hour, we saw, in the distance, a little group of people coming along carrying lanterns. I went toward them, as I wanted to find out which way to go. I was embarrassed on getting nearer to them, for I could hear sobs. I saw a poor woman, who was very corpulent, being helped along by a young priest. The whole of her body was shaken by her fits of grief. She was followed by two subofficers and by three other persons. I let her pass by, and then questioned those who were following her. I was told that she was looking for the bodies of her husband and son, who had both been killed a few days before on the St. Quentin plains. She came each day at dusk, in order to avoid inquisitive people, and she had not yet met with any success. It was hoped that she would find them this time, as one of these subofficers, who had just left the hospital, was taking them to the spot where he had seen the poor creature’s husband fall, mortally wounded.